


Finding Love in Hellish Places

by Emotionally_Compromised_Android



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Comics - Fandom, The Punisher (tv)
Genre: Hell's Kitchen, M/M, Slow Burn, Superheroes, Vigilantism, netflix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionally_Compromised_Android/pseuds/Emotionally_Compromised_Android
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Punisher is back and is gunning down an all-new war path, but the Man without Fear isn't going to let him go it alone. As the two reluctant allies fight through to the heart of a criminal empire, other matters of the heart come to light, with the potential to change these former enemies forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Punisher Returns

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own any of these characters or concepts.

"Get this on the truck. Now you sonuva bitch, get moving." A muted voice shouted. He was shrill and angry, pressure was mounting to get whatever the contraband was that they were shipping out out of there. The worker he threatened wasn't the only one with his life on the line. The heart rates of all the workers were fluttering, like panicked birds trying to flee their cages. 

Daredevil sat on the adjacent rooftop, listening to the tension build in the factory below. Then something caught his attention. One lone man snaked through the industrial yard, working his way through to the factory. His heart was a steady drum. He swore under his breath and leapt. As Daredevil launched himself over the edge, his hand drifted to the holster at his hip, pulling out the billy club and grappling it around the light post, using this momentum to swing him closer to the warehouse and towards the steady-hearted combatant. 

Brett had tipped him off about the Punisher's return and since then Daredevil had been following a trail of bodies throughout Hell's Kitchen and even other parts of Manhattan proper. Every other heart in the area was racing, if these drug runners weren't so young Daredevil might have had to call an ambulance for potential heart attacks, but The Punisher's heart was a perfectly steady rhythm. Daredevil could recognize it any where, and right now it was headed straight towards yet another massacre. 

He landed in the industrial yard just as Frank Castle reached the abandoned factory, gunshots echoing against the cracked bricks and rusted iron. Daredevil rushed in, taking out several unfortunate guards with a baton to the head. By the time he got to the door however, it was too late. Frank stood in the center of the floor, several gang members dead at his feet, with a steeled expression. 

"Castle stop-" daredevil shouted at the top of his lungs but Frank wouldn't listen. He pointed the barrel of his rifle at a pile of white packages and fired. As the Man without fear surged forward, the c4 packs ignited and sent a wave of energy through the factory, only to be followed shortly by white hot flames. 

The world shifted and turned all while a deafening roar filled his ears. Cinders fell like snow through the air, as silent as the dead littering the ground around him. Daredevil tried to stand but was still too disoriented after the blast. He crouched on the ground, blood trickling down his chin. His other senses might be out for the count at the moment but he could still feel the vibration as an adult male wearing stiff soled shoes, combat boots, walked towards him. The constant ringing started to dim, pulsing and whining, a siren in his head that was beginning to fade.

"You never _____ __ ya Red?" A deep voice shouted at him. 

The man knew he could barely hear, that his senses were all out of sync. He crouched down just out of reach of Daredevil, the butt of a semiautomatic rifle slamming against the ground as he knelt, sending a jolt through his spine as he sat at the mercy of a killer. 

"Frank-" he croaked hoarsely; surprised that he was even able to find his own voice after the shockwave of the explosion had thrown him knocking the wind out of him, probably taking a rib or two with it. "You didn't have to do this." 

Slowly his senses started to return, and he could sense the muddled figure of the Punisher shift irritably in front of him. "How many times do we need to have this chat Daredevil? I-" he was drown out by the sound of a siren. A real one this time but with his hearing still acting up, he was worried that he had lost his hearing yet again and had truly gone deaf. 

Frank pivoted and turned towards the source of the unbearable sound. Daredevil clamped his cumbersome hands over the platelets covering his ears, in a futile effort to dampen the sound beating against his ears. Drumming faster and faster, threatening to burst his eardrum. The black clad vigilante turned back towards him, his face a blank slate in Matt's inner eye. "Don't think the police would care to see even your horned mug around after a scene like this." The Punisher said as he rose, adjusting his grip on the rifle. 

"Castle get back here. You're answering for this." Daredevil slurred. Fire seared his limbs as he struggled to stand, but his limbs were still too slow, too stiff. 

"Nighty night Red." The Punisher whispered before the butt of the rifle fell on Daredevil's head. Despite the padding in the mask, Matt went down. He was already struggling to maintain consciousness after getting caught directly by the Street Gang's bomb, but that blow put him over the edge and he was out. Left to the mercy of the police. He was caught, alone, helpless, done. The last of Daredevil before it all went to hell.  
\---

Daredevil came to in a foggy haze. He rolled against the frozen bite of steel to his side and sat up. Where was he? His internal sense pinged against four brick walls, a metal ceiling bent on caving in and several rusty catwalks that might have once made up the building's second story. He took a strong whiff of the musty air. Beneath the strong odor of gasoline and gunpowder he could smell Hell's Kitchen air. A mix of car exhaust fumes, people's sweat and the working man's dream. He wasn't far from where the bomb had gone off. Maybe a couple buildings over but still within the same block. He tried to stand up, but when he got to his feet he was pulled back suddenly by a chain tethering him to the metal slab he had woken up on. He was like a dog tied up on a leash. It brought back a not-so distance memory. The first time he confronted The Punisher and had ended up tied to a chimney while a gun had been duct taped to his hand. Not the best night he'd ever had. Although the humiliation of being tied down again made this night almost as embarrassing. 

"We really need to change the way we meet up Frank." He called out to the obscure figure hidden behind old crates and a wall of forgotten steel. The Punisher stiffened while he cleaned the barrel of his gun. 

"That's two you owe me Horn Head, I'd try a nicer tone." He said quietly as he stood and walked over. That's the second time Castle has seemed aware of his enhanced hearing. Daredevil tugged against the chain. 

"If you give me the key to the lock and make this easy, maybe we can talk about how i can pay you back." He tried to strike up a conversation while he pulled against the chain. Unlike the last time this was a new chain tied together by the hook of a padlock. There weren't any discernible weaknesses in the metal links, not even a single chink or crack.

Frank pulled over a chair from across the room, letting the iron legs scream against the concrete as he dragged it across the floor. "I think you're barking up the wrong tree. You should be more concerned with the fact that you let a pathetic band of punks acquire that much C4 right under your nose." He sat in the chair and stared unblinkingly into Daredevil's crimson mask. 

"You starting another killing spree didn't help with that, Frank." Daredevil spat. 

"Don't blame me for you not putting these shits down for good." The Punisher growled furiously. 

Daredevil rolled his head irritatedly, trying so hard to curl his words and not provoke the Punisher too much, yet. "This isn't going anywhere." 

"You got that damn right." Frank answered curtly. 

"The longer the two of us fight, the Oncoming Storm is able to stack up more resources. More explosives they can use to harm innocent people. We need to cut this crap and get them off the streets." Daredevil explained, gritting his teeth at the trouble this idea was going to lead him head first into. 

Frank Castle sat up with a contemplative look on his face, his finger gingerly taping the side of his leg. "If I agree to this.. team-up, are you going to let me do this my way?" He asked thoughtfully. 

"Definitely not." Daredevil answered assertively. There was no way he was going to let Frank run rampant, killing every last OS until their blood flooded the streets. Most of these drug runners were just kids. Most of them still had families to look after. A single bad choice doesn't mean they should rot in the ground while those families suffer. A decision that severe didn't belong in the hands of men like Frank Castle. Hell, not even Daredevil's. That was for the law to decide, for judges and juries to contemplate and for lawyers to fight over. 

The Punisher growled but ended up cutting the padlock with a pair of bolt cutters any way, allowing Daredevil to step out of his chain leash. He gave the Punisher a nod in thanks, but Frank ignored him. "Well do you have any ideas or am I just going to knock you flat on your ass so I can do this my way?"


	2. A Blind Man Walks into a Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Punisher and Daredevil's team up continues as they battle their way through to the heart of the lion's den to take on a deadly new gang.

The black sedan pulled up promptly, just as Daredevil expected. Turk was never one to be late for a meet. This slippery arms dealer had once again gotten away with an early release from prison and was back at it on the streets, doing exactly what he did best. Selling knock-off guns was probably going to be the end of Turk but, what he was really good at was giving out key information in exchange for a slight knock to the head (or two) and a prison sentence, and tonight Daredevil came for just that. 

"This is one more reason why my way works better." Frank walked up behind Daredevil's crouching form, slurping lazily from a paper coffee cup. 

"Where'd you get the coffee?" Daredevil shook his head, frustrated at himself for getting sidetracked by the fatal vigilante. "Enough, I need to be able to hear." 

Frank grumbled under his breath, a rather nasty remark directed at Daredevil, but he drew silent. Suddenly he heard Turk swear from inside the car. His slinged arm pounded against the faded black facade of the car, knocking the last shards of glass from the window frame, a token from his last encounter with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Apparently the deal that was supposed to go on tonight ended up falling through. It was a shame for Turk, but for the duo it was a lucky break. No deal meant less guns, and less people to come within Punisher's crosshairs.

Turk fumbled beneath the steering wheel, his bad arm making it a little more difficult to hot wire his own car. Before he could get a grip on both wires, Daredevil leapt and smashed down onto the hood of the beat-up, old sedan, putting the engine block out of it's misery. 

"The Hell, man?!" Turk whined in a shrill, unmanly scream. His heart was pounding steadily against his chest, with the timbre of a raging drum than a fearful flutter. Daredevil had done this enough that Turk wasn't afraid anymore, he was just pissed. "Do you get some kind of thrill beating the shit outta my car? First I have to hot wire my own ride, and now this!" He fumed. 

"I'll make sure you get a new ride after you give me the location of the Oncoming Storm." Daredevil said snidely before dragging Turk out of the car, his heart pounding a mile per minute. 

"Not this time D. That's one group I'm sure as hell not gonna cross." Turk refused. 

Before he could force anything out of the lowly dealer, Daredevil sensed The Punisher emerge from the shadows behind him with a high caliber handgun held in his outstretched hand, the cold barrel pointed at the man writhing in Daredevil's grip. 

"No not him. Shit not him! Please don't tell me you two are a thing now." Turk swore as he tried to wrench himself free from Daredevil's hands, but they were like clamped steel, firm and unyielding. 

"Tell us what we want to know Turk." Daredevil said in a honeyed voice before it turned hard and sour. "I'm asking nicely, and you don't want to give the Punisher his chance to ask. So tell me: where are they?" 

"The Lions' Den. Its a bar on their turf, their head honchos meet in the back while the restuv 'em get knocked off their asses drunk in the front. Right in the center of the Kitchen, big sign with a lion on it. Can't miss it." Turk was forthcoming enough with the information, but it wasn't enough for the Punisher. The gun clicked when he disengaged the safety and a bullet clattered into place as it entered the chamber. 

"That's all I got!" Turk pleaded, his wide eyes searched Frank's, looking for any glimmer of mercy. But his eyes were cold and black as if they belonged to a great white shark, ready to sink its teeth in and taste the blood of it's next victim. While his attention was directed elsewhere, Daredevil pulled out his billy club and knocked Turk on the head. A gentle tap was all it took for his eyes to roll back into his head and had his knees buckling when Daredevil ungraciously deposited him back on the ground next to his lifeless sedan. 

"We've got what we needed, lets go." He said to his compatriot, but Frank Castle didn't move. His finger pressed firmly against the trigger, a hair further was all he needed to put an end to the lowlife dealer. 

"Let it go. I can hear the police sirens getting closer. With this evidence and all the priors he's racked up he'll stay in prison this time." Daredevil tried to reason with the bull-headed killer. 

The Punisher turned and stared at Daredevil disbelievingly, but his gaze was lost on blind eyes. "You really think he's going to stay in prison? For people like him its just a halfway house with three square meals and a bed until they can get out and go right back to this shit." 

Daredevil held out his hand, desperate for anything that would appease the Punisher. "That doesn't mean killing them is the right answer Frank." 

"You're deluding yourself if you think I'm going to change." Frank said. 

"I'm just asking for one night. One night, my way." Daredevil said gently, listening closely to the Punisher's enigmatic heartbeat and praying for the answer he was hoping for. 

"One night Red." The Punisher relented, though he sounded unsure. "But if this turns south, the blood's on your hands." 

The Punisher started for his car. A new pickup truck, likely stolen, with a sheet coving an impromptu arsenal in the bed. He slid into the driver's seat, sipping once again on his cuppa coffee. He just sat there. 

"I hope I can live with that." Daredevil said to no one in particular. This might be a grave mistake but he was willing to pay for whatever transgressions he may commit, especially when it came to Frank Castle. 

Running along rooftops and swinging from a billy club was such a liberating and free feeling. He wasn't limited by clogged streets and rush hour traffic, not when all of Hell's Kitchen was his playground. But that didn't mean it was necessarily the fastest mode of travel, and tonight was not the night for a leisurely saunter through the night. Tonight they needed to stop the Oncoming Storm before they moved on. This street gang wasn't going to stop with bombs, and Daredevil was worried they would move on to something bigger. He put his dignity aside and joined the Punisher in his truck. 

The cross dangling from the rearview window flipped and flopped wildly as the Punisher ripped through the empty streets. It was especially quiet tonight and Daredevil was thankful for that, especially with Frank driving like a mad man. The man without fear hung on for dear life. 

"Where the hell'd you learn to drive?" He shouted over the squealing tires as Frank took a sharp turn, and skidded straight through an intersection. The Punisher didn't reply, but chuckled after he hit a pothole that made Daredevil jump out of his seat for a moment, hitting his horned head on the roof of the car before landing back in the seat. The entire car ride had Daredevil on edge. He felt more like he was driving through an active war zone rather than the streets of New York. But based on Frank's sharp turns and blazing speeds, it was almost like he couldn't tell the difference any more. He kept one hand wrapped tightly around the door handle, his knuckles white beneath his leather gloves, while his other arm was braced against anything else he could use to brace himself during this wild ride. Luckily with this manic driving, their thankfully short jaunt through the city streets was fleeting, and it wasn't long before they found themselves staring at the beady, fearsome eyes of neon lion, lit up on the Lion's Den glaring sign. 

\---- 

The meeting was just about over when Daredevil and The Punisher came knocking at the door, ripping it right off its hinges. Almost a dozen men sat around a long table; several of them were half out of their minds with fear while the rest, who had had enough alcohol to make them think they had big enough balls, thought they could stand a chance. The man sitting at the head of the table closest to the door yelled out to the men they had in the bar proper, but little did he know that the two vigilantes behind him had already done a number on those men. Or rather the ones who had been sober enough to fight back. 

All across the table men took up their arms, mostly small caliber guns but several of them brandished knives as well. The Punisher acted quickly, shooting several thugs in nonlethal places: shoulders, legs, hands, although one unfortunate goon was probably never going to have children after tonight. Four of the Punisher's victims went down, while the other two took the opportunity to fire their own weapons. Both aimed at Frank, both missed. With Billy club in hand, Daredevil went after them first. He launched an end at the first man, catching him square in the jaw with the blunt end of the stick while it's twin end landed blow after blow as Daredevil punched the second man, striking key areas over and over again: ribs, gut, and even one sharp jab to the throat. By the time the billy club reeled back together, reunited once more, the second goon was down, leaving just the first, slack-jawed man bleeding profusely from his disfigured mouth, a couple teeth were hanging on by mere threads of gums and roots. 

Daredevil jumped and took the thug down with a roundhouse kick to the gut, sending the man sprawling on the floor next to his trigger happy friend. The last four men circled Frank, as if there were blood in the water and the Sharks were hungry. He could easily handle them, but his usually striking movements were slow and cumbersome. Something was off. Only a moment passed before Daredevil joined the Punisher's dance with the four armed thugs. Stepping in after trading places with one man, cutting in with the aid of his billy club. 

He fought back to back with the Punisher, their every move synchronized and exact. The four men circling Frank swarmed the both of them, but they never could have prepared for the force of nature that was Punisher and Daredevil. One. Two. Three times Daredevil pounded against one adversary, hot fist clenched tightly around cold steel repeatedly hammered against the chest and jaw. His punches were quick like a bullet, giving the thug only one chance to tag the man without fear in the jaw before he stumbled back, cracking his head against the wall. Daredevil smiled grimly, blood trickling down the contour of his jaw as he focused his attention on the next, unfortunate victim. 

The three men scurried around them as the devil continued his dance with his ghastly partner. Two of them remained unarmed, hoping perhaps that their large, hulking build might be enough to overcome the lithe Daredevil or the brutish Punisher. But the third goon had enough wisdom to brandish a knife. Sadly he didn't know how to use it. Inexperience and sheer adrenaline got the better of the kid as he tangled with Frank. Even with his current condition, the one slasher didn't stand a chance against the Punisher. It took one hit to the kid's nose to send him flying off balance and tumbling over, where he remained slouched over a broken chair. The numbers were finally even now as Daredevil and The Punisher continued to fight with an unspoken bond. They played off each other's moves, knocking the man facing Daredevil off kilter just long enough for him to duck to the side while Frank pummeled him. In the mean time Daredevil took on the Punisher's playmate and shattering the thug's knee with one decisive kick to his kneecap, buckling the man's leg in on itself with a sickening crack. 

The man's scream was cut out as he drifted out of consciousness on the debris-littered floor of the backroom. The Punisher stood with his back to Daredevil before turning back towards his crimson companion, his face splattered with the blood of the defeated men as well as accumulating several new bruises and cuts. His breathing was heavy and ragged; the new sensation of Frank's labored breathing surprised Daredevil. Not even after they had fought in the past had Frank Castle struggled so hard to breath, even after bruising a rib. 

"Wasn't too... bad." Frank managed to spit out. He sounded terrible. With all the guns and artillery, Frank was the most formidable from a distance. He was still one helluva fighter when it got down to fists, enough to make Battlin' Jack Murdock proud, but the longer he was out of his element, the greater chance was for the smaller things to get through the chinks of his formidable defenses. 

Daredevil cocked his horned head as he focused intently on his companion. He had been bruised and battered enough times to recognize them just by the way another man held himself, from the slightest of movements to the way they breathed- and the Punisher had accumulated several serious wounds. From the labored breathing, Daredevil could tell that Frank had bruised another rib. But the way he stood was odd, he was still turned away from Daredevil, as if hiding from sight meant he couldn't sense it. Out of sight out of mind was the one metaphor that Daredevil never had an issue with. 

"How long have you been going on with that?" Daredevil asked with a worried edge to his voice. He walked around to face Frank and put a hand against his side. Frank grunted as Daredevil pulled his hand away, his glove covered in Frank's hot blood. 

"I'm fine." Frank muttered stumbling slightly as he tried to storm off but Daredevil was quick and managed to catch him, carrying half of the Punisher's weight on his shoulder. "I can take care of myself."

"Not in this condition. We've caused enough of an uproar to merit attention, and there's no way you're getting out of here under the police's radar without help." Daredevil said lightly as he guided Frank out the door, past the disassembled Oncoming Storm cell. 

Daredevil half walked, half carried Frank out of the shambles of the Lion's Den, taking him back to the truck. He left Frank panting against the passenger door of the truck while Daredevil ripped a swatch of cloth from the tarp, exposing the barrel of an AK-47 to the night air, and gave it to him. Frank held the cloth tight against the gaping wound in his side as he slid into the truck, while Daredevil climbed into the driver's seat of the cab. The Punisher was silent as he turned the keys in the ignition and pulled out into the streets, leaving Daredevil to listen to the fading sound of sirens as police began to circle the Lion's Den, and to Frank's breathing as it evened out into a steady but shallow rhythm as he drifted farther away from consciousness. Daredevil knew that there was only one way for Frank to get the kind of rest and care that he needed to make a perfect recovery. So he set off in a new direction, away from the drifter's path, to the only safe place there was for two vigilantes. Home.


	3. Abandon all loneliness, ye who enter here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt nurses Frank back to health after being stabbed during their fight with gang members in a bar. Daredevil and The Punisher enter a whole new territory when Matt welcomes Frank into his home.

“You’re a terrible driver.” Frank groaned as he stumbled through the door even with Matt’s help, he was lightheaded after losing so much blood during the fight. He was pretty banged up but a trip to the hospital wasn’t necessary or feasible, especially with the Punisher still being at large after his great escape from prison. Matt was confident that once he was sewn up, Frank would be back on his feet in no time. 

“Well I never could qualify for a driver’s license now could I?” Matt helped Frank to the couch before he could pass out again. He went straight for the first aid kit, pulling off his cowl and depositing it on the floor before getting back to his battered guest. Frank snorted when Matt slinked back over to him almost irritated with how honest Matt was with him; he might not have cared who Daredevil was under the mask but Matt had given him more than enough hints. Not once during his trial, did Matt hide who he was from Frank, in fact he put in the effort to get through to Frank, to let him know that he was there to help. When he destroyed his own defense, Matt was convinced he had failed Frank. He never did find out what drove the Punisher to escape, but Frank showing up that night to help fend off the Hand gave Matt hope again that he and Frank could come to understand one another. Perhaps they didn't have to be enemies. 

So here Matt was, with needle and suture, ready to repay the man who saved his life. “I can take care of myself Murdock.” Frank protested, but he made no effort to turn Matt down. 

Matt tugged off his blood stained gloves and threw them onto the table, freeing his hands for the delicate work needed to put the Punisher back together again. Frank grunted as he tried to unfasten his bulletproof vest, but Matt stepped in and helped him pull it off along with his torn shirt, revealing Castle’s chiseled abs, coated in blood and sweat. 

“When did you get stabbed?” He asked as he pulled the gaping hole in Frank’s side closer together for the needle to go through. The stream of blood oozed out faster, but Frank didn’t even flinch. 

Frank answered as Matt strung the needle through the bruised skin. “Some drunken asshole got me by surprise in the bar.” His eyes darted around the room, almost hesitant but it wasn’t long before he rested his gaze on Matt as he worked. 

“How’s that possible?” Matt remarked, he was almost finished sewing Frank up. 

“Normally people go down and they stay down when they deal with me. I’m not used to them getting back up.” Frank said pointedly. Neither of them spoke as Matt finished dressing the wound with disinfectant and a cloth bandage to soak up the blood, finally wrapping his chest in a round of gauze to hold it in place. “Why are you helping me?” Frank asked point blank.

“I wasn’t going to let you bleed out Frank.” Matt said simply. 

“Like you did last time-” Frank fired back. 

“Are you expecting an apology for leaving you to the police? You killed people Frank and you needed to answer for that.” Matt snapped. 

“Yeah and I’ve killed plenty more who deserved it since then. Nothing’s changed.” Frank snarled leaning as close as he could without ripping his wound open again; his swollen nose was mere inches from that of the defensive attorney, so close he could feel Frank’s breath tickle his lips. 

“I don’t believe that. I saw you hold back when you easily could have killed all of those men.” Matt tried to reason with him. 

“Hmmph.” Frank grunted, leaning back again. He sounded tired, and the slight twitch in his lips told Matt that he had plenty more to say, but just didn’t care to continue. Matt couldn’t say he would complain, he was tired of fighting. He got up and washed his hands of Frank’s blood in the kitchen sink, grabbing two beers on his way back. He immediately indulged himself on the golden liquor, while he left the other on the coffee table for Frank. 

Frank eyed him but picked up the bottle any way and took one long sip before putting it back down again. Matt dropped into the chair across from him and let out a tired sigh. For a moment neither of them spoke, they rested in silence. Frank gazed about Matt’s simply adorned apartment before he broke the silence. “Honestly, I never expected any of this.” 

“I never took you as an interior designer.” Matt didn't even bother to pick his head up, immediately jumping to the conclusion that he was complaining about his lack of decor like most of his guests did. 

“I was talking about you smart ass.” Frank snapped at him. Whatever he was going to say next was lost to a sudden bust of anger. “I never wanted to know who you were under the halloween devil horns but you couldn't let things go.” 

Matt picked his head up but didn't say anything, instead he continued listening to Frank. “I was better off before you made this personal Matt.” He groaned as he got up, rising slowly to his feet as he clutched his injured side. 

Matt jumped up in response. Frank was being stubborn and knowing him, if he left now he’d do something stupid that would tear his wound open again. “Frank you have got to take it easy.” He put himself between Frank and the door, he was ready to take Frank down if he had to if it meant protecting the Punisher from himself. 

“Fuck this.” Frank said, almost inaudibly, as he forcefully grabbed Matt by the collar of the Daredevil suit, but as soon as he had him in his grasp, Frank stopped. He was dangerously close to the man without fear but neither of them struggled, they just stood there frozen. Red hot blood rose to Matt’s cheeks when he heard the last thing he was expecting from the Punisher. For as long as Matt had known Frank, he could always distinguish him by his calm and steady heartbeat. Even in the thick of battle it was steady and strong like a war drum, never missing a beat but what he heard now was the opposite. His heart beat faster and faster, crescendoing in Matt’s ears as his own heart pounded the same rapid rhythm. He didn't think he could be surprised any more than he already was, when Frank leaned in. 

At first he just brushed against Daredevil’s lips, almost a tease as he tested his own resolve, then he made the plunge and pressed firmly against Matt's lips . Their mouths fought each other until Matt’s tongue pushed past his lips found Frank’s and he could taste the salty and bitter mix of blood, sweat and gunpowder that seemed to cling to Frank like a second skin, the sensation coupled with his scent. In a matter of seconds, it has become his favorite flavor; it was the essence of Frank: who he is, what he does. Frank pushed himself closer against Matt, his hands drifting to his shoulders as he thrust Matt against the wall with a loud thud, all while never letting the ferocity of their kiss diminish even slightly. As soon as he had Matt pinned against the wall, he lowered his hands and placed them firmly against Matt's. The pressure of his calloused palms against him drove Matt wild and he wrapped his arms around Frank's neck, one hand pushing him closer as Matt threw himself fully into the kiss, reducing himself to nothing beyond sensation and euphoria. 

Matt loosened his grip on Frank, and slowly broke the spell their kiss had on him. He pulled away and breathed heavily against the wall, Frank’s likewise heavy breath tickled the hairs on his chin. Matt opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even make out so much as a syllable he was interrupted by annoying chirping as his phone went off across the room. The phone mutedly doled out and he was more than tempted to let it go on and ignore it but then he listened to its infuriating tone. Foggy Foggy Foggy, it rang out over and over again. “Dammit.” He swore under his breath as he pulled himself free from Frank's touch. He stomped over to the phone and picked it up just before it went right to message. 

“Yeah Foggy.” He greeted irritably as Frank looked on. 

“Well good morning to you too.” Foggy’s voice was mutilated by the terrible phone connection. Matt wondered if his voice too sounded like it had been ripped up by a wood chipper and spewed out on the other end of the line like Foggy’s had. 

“Sorry, how are you?” Matt replied apologetically, he couldn't blame Foggy personally for his impeccable timing. 

“Great, great. Things are going well at Hogarth, Chao, Benowitz and Nelson.” Foggy said sheepishly. 

“Sounds like that’s a hard name to fit on a business card.” Matt joked as he eased into the conversation. 

“Yeah, I actually haven't gotten those yet so I'm not sure how that works.” Foggy tried to banter back, but his heart wasn't in it. “Listen Matt can we get together and talk?” 

“Yeah buddy. When do you want to-“ Matt started as he scratched the back of his head. 

“Want to meet up at my office in half an hour? Maybe get a drink.” Foggy suggested.

“Actually can we meet a little later?” Matt countered. By the time he got out of his suit, dressed and out the door he would have just enough time to get over to Foggy’s new work place. But what about Frank? They were in an all new territory and Matt didn't want to put a hold on exploring that and seeing what it meant for the two of them. But he couldn't just stand up Foggy; not with their friendship in its current state. 

“I only have that one break before I have a client meeting-“ Foggy answered with a heavy heart. 

Matt looked at Frank and held his gaze for a moment before Frank backtracked to the couch and drank his beer dismissively. “I’ll see you in half an hour then.” He finally relented. 

“Great.” Foggy replied before the receiver clicked, killing the conversation before Matt could try to say something more to his best friend. Even though he had no idea what more he could have added. 

“I have to-“ Matt attempted to justify this to Frank. He felt like an ass right now, like he had been leading Frank on only to bolt at the last second. Which was pretty accurate. 

“Go.” Frank answered nonchalantly. His attention was focused more on the condensation on the beer bottle than on Matt. 

Matt sulked over to the bedroom, pausing at the doorway for a fleeting moment to think of some way to apologize for all of this. But ever since Foggy had hung up on him, he couldn't seem to string together a single thought, one simple apology. It took him a little under ten minutes to peel off his costume and pull his tired limbs into his plain business suit. He adjusted his loose, charcoal grey tie and picked up his walking stick on his way out the door, pausing again before disappearing from Frank’s sight. He nestled his crimson tinted glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.” He muttered, not even waiting for Frank to respond before he reluctantly disappeared out the front door.


End file.
